Healing Scars
by PadfootIsMyHomeDawg
Summary: Harry remembers what it was like when he was a child, and even now that he's an adult, he can never seem to forget, and it's begun to affect his interactions with Sirius. What will Sirius think when he finds out how Harry was sexually abused as a child? What will he do? Darkish, angsty - past noncon and SBHP - R&R!
1. Chapter 1

**Yup, still stuck with LTB…also, I'm thinking I'll make that one non-slash, after thinking about it…**

**But that's not this story. This story is just a little oneshot that I've added bits and pieces to over the past few months, and I finished it today, so…I figured I should post it! Warnings, though: this has graphic noncon, a bit of language, and you might be slightly disappointed with the ending. But I liked it, so I hope you guys do, too! :)**

* * *

_His uncle's breath was hot on the back of his neck as the older man panted with the exertion of his movements. The small bed in the extra bedroom moved with every thrust, the headboard hitting the wall each time. The smell of sex was in the air, and he tried futilely to block out the moans of his uncle above him. He clutched the sheets and bit hard on his bottom lip in a vain attempt to keep back the tears as he was ripped apart from the inside out over and over again. He tasted the familiar coppery taste of blood, but it didn't stop him from biting his lip even harder._

_"Such a tight little arse," his uncle grunted, his fat fingers bruising the hips they grasped. He choked on his tears and spit as the length moving inside him hit **that spot **and traitorous pleasure shot through his body. He felt the heat pooling in his groin, a tightness there that was both pleasurable and torturous. _

_"You're such a nice little slut, aren't you, boy?" the older man said. "You like this, don't you, freak?"_

_He didn't answer, knowing that it would make no difference. All of the begging and crying in the world would never stop the lust-driven man from doing as he pleased to the much smaller body of his only nephew. It would only encourage him._

_But then that spot was hit again, and he bit off his cry with a gasp just an instant too late. His uncle made a pleased sound in his throat at the sound and thrust harder, if possible, driving into that spot **again**. He was able to retain his silence this time, though helpless, hurt tears streaked down his face as he tried to force his own member to **stop getting harder**. Noises from him always encouraged his uncle, whether they be cries or shrieks or sobbing or begging. He clenched the sheets tighter in his fists, bit harder on his lip, as the spot was rammed into once again. And again. _

_"You. Are. Mine!" Each harsh word was punctuated by an even harsher thrust against his abused prostate gland, and Harry's lip was bit almost clean through as he struggled increasingly harder to keep his silence. He didn't want it to get worse, though at the moment a worse position was unfathomable. It just wasn't possible to get any worse than he already was._

_And then he cried out, harsh and loud and almost to the point of a wail, because the stimulation to his prostate gland caused him to ejaculate his fluid all over his already dirty mattress. He almost collapsed with exhaustion after the orgasm, but then that spot was struck again, probably harder than any other time that night. And this time there was no pleasure – only pain. It was a bruising sort of pain, like a bruised tailbone, in that he knew it would take a long time to heal._

_His uncle was saying things – dirty, disgusting things that made him want to curl up in a hole where no one would find him – but at that moment his brain didn't comprehend anything other than pain and pleasure. Because, after the initial hit to the gland after his orgasm, the following strikes sent signals to his brain that told it to send blood rushing to his groin again and chemicals of faux pleasure racing through his body._

How is it possible to be in such a nightmare but in so much pleasure at the same time? _He wondered, because his body should **not **be responding in the way it was. This was his **uncle **– it was **incest**! _

_But no one had ever found out about him and his much older uncle, not since this…**horror **had started a year ago. It only happened when they were alone in the house – he could never be sure if his aunt or his cousin knew about it, or even suspected it. It was disguised enough by the hate he showed his nephew around the others. But when they left…_

_The small bundle of nerves was hit again by the foreign, unwelcome organ inside him, and he couldn't hold back the sob of pain and helplessness as more chemicals raced through his veins and his arse gave a painful throb. The thrusts of his uncle grew faster in their pace, harder, tight balls slapping loudly against arse cheeks, the headboard hitting the wall again and again as he moved._

_"Touch yourself, my little whore!" the older man grunted out, but he couldn't. Not only was it disgusting to obey to such a command from his **uncle**, but his arms were so weak already, and he didn't think he could hold up the whole of his body weight on just one arm. Especially because if he fell, his arse would be in the air and he would be in the perfect bitch position for his uncle to drive himself deeper into him. That had happened several times before and it always left him unable to sit even relatively comfortably for** weeks**. _

_But the lust-driven man was impatient, and now annoyed and angry at his nephew's lack of obedience. He reached around the pale, thin body and grabbed the length in his own hand, jerking it harshly._

_His eyes watered at the extreme pain, and the member wilted as he cried out and instinctively tried to jerk away. But it was no use, and after a couple of strokes of the pudgy fingers, he was ashamedly hard again._

_But he had no time to think on the fact, for suddenly he exploded in all-consuming pain as his uncle's load shot deep inside him. He cried out in a long wail, not even thinking to cut himself off as his brain tried to block everything else out. He barely registered his own climax before his uncle collapsed all his weight on top of him. And he just wanted to get that softening thing **out **of his body, because it never had **any **right to be there in the first place. But he knew from past experience that in moving it would only stimulate the man further and he'd go for round two._

_It was hard to breathe under the weight of the walrus-like man, but he was too busy trying to stop his tears before his uncle saw and was turned on by it again to care._

_By pure coincidence, his gaze traveled to the alarm clock beside the bed just as it switched to midnight. He suddenly remembered the date and felt even worse._

Happy 10th Birthday, Harry, _he thought miserably, and waited for Vernon to decide whether he wanted another go or would be fine leaving then._

* * *

Harry's eyes snapped open as he awakened with a violent jolt. He was met with the darkness of the room around him, and, heart pounding, he realized it was only a nightmare.

_If only, _he thought with a mental sigh. Sure, it was a nightmare _now_, but it was hard to differentiate between nightmare and reality when said nightmare was simply a memory repeating itself in his mind while he slept.

"Harry?" the sleepy voice came from beside him, and he turned his head to see Sirius' half-closed eyes peering up at him from the pillows. "Wha's wrong?"

Harry shook his head and turned his body to face his lover, grasping one of his hands in his own, intertwining their fingers. "Nothing, Siri – sorry for waking you."

"Mm," Sirius mumbled sleepily and let his eyes drift closed even as he clutched Harry's hand tighter. In moments he was snoring softly again, and Harry watched him sleep. He looked so peaceful, so perfect, that he couldn't resist leaning forward and kissing each of his eyelids before snuggling closer and listening to his heartbeat against his ear.

It was the steady _thrum-thrum _of his lover's heart that gently lulled Harry back into sleep, this time with no nightmares.

* * *

The next morning they lied in bed, quietly talking as sunlight peeked through the white curtains, playing across their half-naked bodies. The white sheet was pulled loosely across them, covering them from the waist to the knees. Harry's foot was twined with Sirius' as he lied on his side, and Sirius was tracing mindless patterns on the arm Harry had lying between them.

"So," Sirius said with a slight upturn of his lips. "Your birthday is in a couple of weeks."

"Hm," Harry said passively. "So it is."

"_So_…you want anything special, then?" Sirius pushed, his smile growing.

Harry shrugged. "Not particularly. I'm happy just being with you for the day."

"_Aww_!" Sirius said mockingly, though he was clearly pleased. "But, _really_, Harry – you don't turn twenty-two every day! Or even every _year_! This has _got _to be special. It's only every eleven years you turn an age where the two numbers are the same. I don't want to wait till you're thirty-three to throw you a big birthday shebang!"

"Sirius Black, as much as I love you, I do _not _want some big, crazy party thrown in my honor – not now, not _ever_."

Sirius pouted, making Harry chuckle and lightly kiss the tip of his nose.

"I'll throw _you _a big birthday bash for your birthday if you'd like, Sirius, but the only one I care to be with just now is you."

Sirius grinned and pressed his lips suddenly to Harry's. Harry pressed back, and felt Sirius' tongue swipe against his bottom lip, asking for entrance, to which Harry acquiesced. Sirius pushed his tongue insistently inside and wound the soft muscle with Harry's. They playfully battled for dominance before Harry submitted, making Sirius chuckle softly and massage his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Harry moaned, and Sirius took that as his cue to roll on top of him, pressing their weights into the mattress. Sirius gripped Harry's biceps, massaging and squeezing while Harry tangled his hands in the dark locks above him, sucking on Sirius' tongue as though to draw it deeper into his mouth.

Then Sirius shifted, and he was straddling Harry's hips, and Harry felt a hard length poking insistently into his lower belly.

He tensed suddenly, instinctively, caught up in memories of the past. He distantly realized that Sirius had pulled away from his suddenly unresponsive lips, and was saying something, but his heart was pounding too fast – too loudly – for him to make out what was said. All he knew was that there was weight around him, pressing in on him, and it was suddenly not welcoming, but claustrophobic.

Sirius sat back then, and Harry's limp hands fell back to the bed. He blinked a couple of times, trying to refocus his eyes on the grey orbs staring concernedly down at him as pink, slightly bruised lips moved, speaking words that gradually became clear to Harry.

"…Harry, what's wrong? What happened? Did I do something? Answer me, Harry!"

Sirius was sounding increasingly panicked as Harry didn't respond. He leaned in closer to Harry again – not close enough to kiss him, but close enough to feel the breath on his face. Sirius touched the back of his hand to Harry's forehead, then his neck, as though checking for fever.

Harry smiled weakly at him and placed his palms on Sirius' chest, a move that kept him away and reassured him at the same time. "I'm fine, Sirius. I think my blood sugar is running low – everything went all fuzzy there for a bit. We should get some breakfast."

Sirius peered at him suspiciously for a moment before saying, "That's not it, Harry, and we both know it. Come on – what's wrong? This happens every time we start to get passionate. Is it me? Am _I _doing something?"

Harry shook his head quickly. "No – of course not! Nothing's wrong, Siri, I just…it's all moving so fast."

Sirius sighed and dropped down beside him, propping his head up on one hand. "We've been together for almost a _year_, Harry, and all we've done is a lot of snogging. I don't think we're moving 'fast' at _all_."

Harry exhaled as the truth of Sirius' words washed over him. Yes, it was true. At first when Harry had turned away from the prospect of sex, making up excuses with each instance, Sirius had been patient. He didn't push, trying to be understanding, though he knew that Harry's excuses were just that – excuses. He figured that maybe Harry was shy to such an idea – he must still be a virgin – and that maybe he would gradually warm to the notion. Or maybe he was stil hesitant about a sexual relationship between them, because of the whole godfather-godson thing, or maybe the twenty year age gap…any number of reasons were plausible.

But he was okay taking a shower with Sirius totally naked, and he frequently walked around in only his boxer shorts, so it wasn't that…whatever it was, Sirius was accepting of his seeming squeamishness. Though as time went on, it was clear to both of them that he was becoming increasingly frustrated and needy.

Sirius didn't want to hurt his godson and lover, but he just didn't understand why Harry always stopped it before it got too far. He'd had an increasing number of wanking sessions as time went on with no real action, but it wasn't the same. Harry was just…_beautiful_, and he _wanted _him – wanted him more than anyone else he'd ever wanted. He felt a little guilty about wanting to ravish Harry so fiercely, but it's not as though that was the _only _reason he still stayed with him. He loved him, of course, but he wanted to make it _official_, he supposed. Or as official as it could be _without _marriage. He'd never voiced his worries to Harry, but he'd pondered many times that perhaps Harry was just fooling around and didn't want anything too serious – no pun intended. Perhaps Harry didn't want to get his hopes up, because he planned leaving Sirius later on, anyway. And that was another reason that Sirius wanted them to have sex – he felt he needed that assurance that Harry was _his_, and he was Harry's, and he couldn't imagine sleeping with him and then Harry deciding to leave.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," Harry sighed, turning his gaze to the ceiling. "I don't mean to be a priss, but I'm just not ready to go that far yet."

Sirius was quiet for a minute, causing Harry to turn his head to look at him. There was a nervous look in his eyes, and he seemed to be struggling to say something.

"Is it me?" he asked in an insecure voice that Harry hardly ever heard in the man. "Do you want to…stop…_us_?"

Harry's eyes widened and he quickly reached out, grasping Sirius' hand in his own and holding it to his chest. "No! _No, _Sirius – I love _you_! I don't want to stop this, but…I just…it's hard, some things, after the memories I have…"

Sirius scrunched his eyebrows together, and Harry mentally cursed when he realized he'd blurted out too much in trying to reassure his lover.

"Memories?" he echoed. "Harry, what happened? What are you talking about?" His voice was urgent and worried, something Harry didn't want to happen.

"Nothing happened," Harry said quickly, though he wouldn't quite meet Sirius' concerned gaze. "It's just…"

Sirius' expression suddenly softened. "Is this about the war?"

Harry grasped onto that excuse even as he felt bad for lying to Sirius. "It's just…it feels so wrong after…after what happened to…to Remus and Tonks."

It was low, and he knew it. Just a day after Remus had left Shell Cottage, he and Tonks and their new son, Teddy, had been found at their cottage by Death Eaters. Tonks had been gang raped while Remus had been kept immobile and helpless as he watched. Then, she had been killed right afterwards.

Fenrir Greyback had shown up then, and when he'd seen the baby he'd ordered the remaining two not to be killed but taken as prisoners. Remus had been tortured every hour leading up to the full moon – including several times of being raped – but Teddy had been kept away. When the full moon had come next, Remus was chained in the cellar and forced to turn violently on himself and Greyback had bit the infant. The next day when Remus had been woken up, it was to the news that Teddy was at that very moment becoming a werewolf, and he was sure to transform at the next full moon.

Teddy had been brought in, and Remus had seen the silvery bite that provided the truth to Greyback's words. He'd been given the option to kill him then or let him live to be raised by Greyback as a werewolf. Not wanting his son to be so horribly raised – never mind the part about being a werewolf when he wasn't even a year old – he had reached out, and snapped the child's neck then and there. After three more days of torture and rape, his body had finally given out due to his physical and mental grief. His body, along with Teddy's, had been delivered to Grimmauld Place along with a vial of memories showing everything that had happened. Sirius had been consumed with grief for days, and only the news that Harry had defeated Voldemort – and Greyback and many of his followers had been killed – had allowed him to come out of his newly reclusive nature.

As soon as Harry said the words, Sirius' face contorted in grief. He closed his eyes as though to block out the pain, and the stab of guilt in Harry's heart was driven deeper. He almost took back the words…but he didn't want Sirius to find out about what had happened so many years ago. It hadn't seemed too important…it had stopped being penetrative sex with his uncle after his Hogwarts letter – something about "freaky germs" and "contamination of the worst sort", though Vernon was probably afraid Harry would retaliate using magic. After that it had only been the occasional suggestive touch or dirty words, and as horrible as that was, he'd been able to deal. Although those two years were the worst years of his life, he could get over it…it's not like he'd be affected by it _forever_…right?

In any case, he and Sirius didn't talk about it for the rest of the day.

* * *

Sirius Black was generally a very "go with the flow" sort of guy. He didn't think too deeply about many things, preferring to just accept what came at him and move on.

Azkaban had changed this, of course. The Dementors had forced him to think and relive memories thousands of times, if not more. After he'd gotten out of Azkaban he'd never been the same as he was before – though that was to be expected, of course. He was a lot more contemplative, though living with Remus in the years until the other married had helped a lot. Now he wasn't as bad as when he got out of Azkaban but he still thought a lot more than when he was twenty.

And, after many, _many _hours of lying awake next to his lover, thinking about said young man had caused him to notice many things that he was sure that Harry didn't know he did. Notice, that is. For one, Harry was very enthusiastic about snogging. He _loved _snogging. (Well, it's not that Harry tried to hide that fact, but it was something he'd noticed, anyway.) There were many times when Harry would surprise him very suddenly with a tongue down the throat…sometimes he even liked groping and feeling. But once it even _hinted_ at going further than that, Harry was as skittish as a horse that'd spotted a snake. It didn't seem to make any difference about location – or position, for that matter – but once he felt Sirius' hardness and seemed to be brought back to his senses, he made up some ridiculous excuse and backed off.

Sirius was reminded of Remus before they knew he was a werewolf, how when he lied it was fairly obvious as time went on that they were merely excuses he was making. As time went on, each excuse grew more and more ridiculous to the point where it was almost pathetic.

Sirius felt hurt for a while, each time Harry essentially said "no". Then he was concerned, then frustrated, and then worried.

It was this worry that drove Sirius to watch Harry more closely at each incident. He allowed himself to grow hard, then would basically cause his groin to touch Harry, and then watched for his reaction. He had at first thought that maybe it was the position they were in, so sometimes he'd come up behind Harry, and when that didn't work he surprised him in bed. He felt slightly manipulative and more like a pedophile with every passing day, but he knew that Harry wasn't going to _tell _him what was going on – he had always been very secretive, and that just wasn't his way. He figured it would be better to figure out the problem itself and then remedy that without any sort of direction to Harry as to what he was doing or planning.

But the situation didn't matter, apparently, because every single time without fail Harry would get a flash in his eyes, a flash of something Sirius had yet to identify. Whatever it was, he didn't like it. It made him get this cold sort of feeling in his belly, and he didn't know or understand why, after every incident, Harry was just a bit too…_polite_ for a few hours.

But then, Harry had slipped up. _"It's hard, some things, after the memories I have…" _That's what he'd said, Saturday morning in bed after one such incident.

Now, the people who didn't know Sirius too well always thought that he wasn't too logical – that he didn't really think long enough to come up with an answer to a Very Big Problem. However, they of course didn't know that it was _Sirius _who had finally made the connection that one of his best friends was a werewolf. Oh, James and Peter had helped of course, but Sirius had been the one that had really pushed them to look into it, _why _their friend always went missing, was sick so much, got hurt so much… And then after they'd figured it out, _Sirius _had inevitably come up with the solution of the three of them becoming Animagi to make transforming into and being a werewolf much easier for Remus.

So, after these occasions, it was fairly simple for Sirius to make the connection in his head, to guess what had happened to Harry.

Oh, he hated the mere idea of it, obviously. Who wouldn't? No one wants to know that the person they loved most in the world had once been used and raped.

Yes, he _must've _been raped. All of the signs were there. Harry had never been particularly good at lying, and the relief that had been on his face when Sirius had suggested everything being about the war had been a little too obvious. Yes, Harry must've been sad about the tragedy that had befallen Remus and Tonks and Teddy, but he would also know how the reminder of it would make Sirius sad and not ask any more about the sex issue. And Sirius had believed it – at the time. Now though, after having some time to think about it, he knew that Harry was just making another excuse.

And yes, he was hurt and upset that Harry continued to lie to him and not trust him and would use _Remus _as an excuse, but he was also concerned for Harry. After hours of contemplation that continued into the night, everything added up with Harry's behavior.

He tried to remember how long Harry had been skittish about this sort of thing, but it was hard, considering that they'd only been together for less than a year. When he'd known Harry as a teenager, he saw him as just that – a teenager. A teenager, his best friend's son, and his godson. He wasn't watching or even thinking of anything sexual about the young man, especially with Voldemort after his blood and the Wizarding World depending on the green-eyed boy. Harry had spoken with him a couple of times about the relationships he'd tried to get in with girls in school that never seemed to work out, though that could also be because he hadn't yet known that he was gay. Harry had told him that he'd figured it out when he'd gone to the States the summer he'd turned twenty-one and had seen a guy on the streets and had wondered what it would be like to kiss a man. He'd been startled at himself, but then less than a month later, he started dating a man he'd sat next to once at a Broadway show.

Sirius was never clear on what had happened between Harry and that man, but Harry had shown up at his doorstep that Halloween stating that he wasn't going back to New York ever again, and then telling him a condensed version of his story over peanut butter cookies and Firewhiskey. Then Sirius had told an apprehensive Harry that he wasn't going to kick him out just because he was gay – and that he himself was gay, so that would be a bit hypocritical, wouldn't it? Harry had kissed him then and said that that was good, because that didn't make it so odd that he was already in love with the older man and had only recently figured out what those feelings were. It had been an accident for Harry to say that out loud and he'd been very sheepish and embarrassed at first, but soon they were in a real relationship.

Getting back to his thoughts, Sirius decided that Harry must've been raped by that man in the States. He seethed with anger at this, but considering that he didn't even know the guy's _name_, he couldn't do anything about it. He determined to find out though, because who else could have done this to his precious Harry?

With these homicidal thoughts in mind, he drifted off to sleep next to the already softly snoring Harry.

* * *

"You're thinking very loudly today."

Harry's voice broke into Sirius' train of thought on how best to cook the man who would ever _dare _to hurt the love of his life, and he looked up to see Harry looking at him with a wry sort of smile. Sirius shook his head as though by doing so would shake the bloodthirsty thoughts from his notoriously imaginative mind and smiled at Harry a bit crookedly.

"Sorry, love – I'm about a million miles away right now." He told Harry as the young man walked towards him wearing only a towel around his waist, water dripping from his tousled hair and down the planes of his chest.

Harry laughed lightly and sat down behind Sirius, beginning to massage his shoulders. "I could see that," he teased. "Anything I can do to help you sort out your oh-so-tumultuous and most likely dangerous thoughts?" He moved his hands to Sirius' neck, and Sirius sighed blissfully at the wonderful feeling.

"Mm…a little higher, love…" After a moment of enjoying the strong hands kneading the cramped muscles in his neck, he answered Harry's question, saying, "Actually, there was something I was wondering…" He decided to just ask outright, and hope for the best. "What was that one guy's name – the one you dated in New York before coming back here?"

The hands on Sirius' neck paused for a brief instant before continuing, a bit harder than before but still mostly enjoyable. "Why do you ask?"

Sirius tried to ignore the strain in Harry's voice at the question and continue on in his mission. Besides the fact that knowing his name would make it easier to find him and consequently rip off his balls and make the man eat them, he knew that talking about a trauma could help someone get past it. And, besides the selfish part of him that wanted Harry, he was currently more concerned about helping Harry past it and not have to worry about it anymore.

"No reason," Sirius answered Harry's inquiry. "Just a little curious…why'd you break it off with him, anyway?"

The hands on his neck stopped completely, and were removed from Sirius' neck. "Why all the questions about my past boyfriend?" This time his voice was almost accusatory.

"It's nothing," Sirius said. "It's just that you've never mentioned him or even told me his name, and I was curious." He turned in the bed to see an odd expression on Harry's face, strained and slightly angry. He knew he should back off, take it back, but he couldn't. Not now.

"I don't _mention_ him, because I'm _over_ him." Harry said in a clipped tone. "And I don't know why you should care so much about a man on the other side of the world – whom I haven't even spoken to for _months_ – when I'm dating _you_."

"Harry," Sirius said in a gentler voice, realizing that he might be pushing the young man too much. "I'm not attacking you or anything of the sort. If you don't want to answer, that's fine. I can understand how it might be hard."

"It's not _hard _at all!" Harry snapped, rising suddenly to his feet. "His name was Tyler Wayne Sherman, and he was _married_ to some chick in Queens! Don't pretend like you know anything about what went on, because you _don't_!"

Sirius remained sitting on the bed, and looked up at Harry with a single raised eyebrow. "So…he _didn't _force you into anything you didn't want?" he said dryly, though his heart was pounding with worry that he would receive a confirmation to his words. Though of course, he didn't see how he could be wrong. His instincts were generally right.

Harry rolled his eyes and turned to the closet to pick out clothes. "No. He didn't. He only wanted something quick with me, and had other men – and women – waiting for _their _turn with him, but he would never _force _me into anything. He was a lying, cheating, _married _bastard – not a r-rapist."

Sirius caught the stutter in Harry's last word, but he didn't call him out on it. The problem was, he _believed _what Harry was saying. This "Tyler" guy hadn't raped him after all…but he _knew _that his suspicions were right. He _knew _that Harry had been raped at some point. But, when? And by who?

* * *

Sirius didn't find out the answer to his two questions until Wednesday, eight days before Harry's birthday. Ever since the issue of "Tyler" on Monday, things had been a bit tense between the two, the conversation and playful banter not coming as easily as it had before. They had kissed once, but it had been stiff and a bit awkward.

When Wednesday came, he resolved before Harry woke up that he would try and get it back to how it had been, and just lay all his cards on the table, so to speak.

So, after lunch that day as they played Wizards Chess, Harry was in the lead when Sirius finally spoke.

"Harry, I need to talk to you about something."

Harry nodded, keeping his eyes glued to the chessboard, though it was clear that he was more focused on what Sirius would say.

Sirius wasn't quite sure where to start. He couldn't just blurt everything out; that was tactless and it would put Harry on the defense. Finally he said, "Sometimes people are dealt bad cards in life. It's not the fault of any one individual, but a lot of the time one person has lots of bad cards and another lots of good cards. There's not really any particular reason for this, I don't think, and there's really nothing that can be done about it but to keep moving forward and know that eventually something good will happen."

Harry looked slightly confused, slightly exasperated, and a bit amused all at once as he still pretended to focus on the chessboard. "Sirius, just get to the point. Subtlety isn't exactly your strong suit. What's worrying you?"

Sirius inhaled deeply before saying in one breath, "Okay, but before I say this, just know that I love you no matter what, and I'm not trying to be pushy and we don't have to do anything, but I just thought that you should know that I know and I can help you get past it but you're really not bound into anything, of course, but know that if you wanted it, I will always be here for you – and even when you don't want it because I really hate to see you upset or unhappy and I will do everything in my power to keep that smile on your face because I love you more than anyone else in the whole world and _nothing _can change that, Harry, understand?"

Harry was even more confused, and now worried. He had looked up somewhere in the middle of Sirius' speech and now reached out, grasping Sirius' hands in his own. "Of course, Sirius – just as I love you. What's this about?"

Sirius tightened his grip on Harry's hands and stared into his concerned emerald gaze. "Harry…I know that you were…_used_, when you were younger."

Harry understood Sirius' attempt at tact, and his eyes clouded over, but he gripped Sirius' hands tighter, as though afraid to let him go.

"And?" he said in a tight voice.

And with that one word of confirmation, the fragile thread of hope that perhaps he was wrong, that this was just a misunderstanding, snapped. He felt his eyes stinging, and quickly blinked to keep back the tears.

"And after thinking about it, I had at first thought that it was your…your boyfriend from the States," Sirius continued, still holding Harry's gaze. "And I wanted to go over there and rip off the bastard's balls and shove 'em down his throat for even _trying _anything of the sort." Something in Harry's eyes shifted, though Sirius wasn't sure what as he continued on. "But I found out that it wasn't him. And I suppose it doesn't really matter who it was, because it happened and nothing can be done about it now, but I just want to rip whoever it was to pieces."

Harry was still staring at him with those bright green eyes, as though he was staring into Sirius' soul, but Sirius didn't look away.

"Remus was raped once, while we were in school," Sirius confessed, to Harry's shock. He figured if Remus were here, he would share this fact to help Harry, but still he felt like he was divulging secrets as he explained. "It was second year, before we figured out his secret, so we weren't around him a lot before a full moon, having no reason to be so protective yet. He was still weak, you know? And if it had been any other time, he might've been able to fight back, being stronger as a werewolf. But it wasn't, and he couldn't.

"We didn't find out about it till Fourth Year when he accidentally let it slip, and by then Remus said the kid had already graduated. We never found out who it was, but Remus said he'd joined Voldemort and died in a raid not even a month later. Still, all three of us wanted to bring the guy back from the dead just so that we could kill him again.

"Remus didn't understand our logic, though. Pretty soon we figured out that he blamed himself. Ridiculous, of course. It's _never _the fault of the person who was raped, but Remus went on about how if he had stayed inside when he was four, he wouldn't have become a werewolf, and he wouldn't have been too weak to fight off his attacker. But he was wrong – the other guy was a _Seventh Year_, for Merlin's sake! Even if he _hadn't _been a werewolf, it probably still would've happened.

"My point, Harry, is that you better not believe this is your fault because if so, I'll just have to bring your father back from the beyond just so he can wallop some sense into you."

A small smile entered Harry's face before it slipped off again and he said, "I don't know whose fault it is, Sirius, I really don't. I never said anything about it, though, and I could've stopped it if I had just opened my mouth – even Aunt Petunia probably would've stopped it, but I was scared…"

"Hold on," Sirius said, his eyes widening slightly in horror. "You're making this sound like this happened more than once!"

Harry finally looked away from Sirius' gaze, though the grip on his hands tightened to almost painful. "Forty-three," he mumbled.

"Fort-" Sirius shook his head in horror. "This happened _forty-three times_?!"

Harry took a deep breath and nodded, still keeping his gaze trained away from Sirius'. "It started when I was nine," he admitted.

Sirius felt an explosion in the pit of his stomach at these words. Being raped at _all _was horrible in itself, but before he'd even hit _puberty_?! He could only imagine how much more it would've hurt on the undeveloped body of the nine-year-old. A red haze was beginning to cloud his eyes as he felt frustration, pain, helplessness, and anger.

"Was it a teacher?" he asked roughly, though he wasn't sure why. "Did one of your school teachers do that to you?"

After a moment of silence, Sirius refocused on Harry to see him struggling to say something.

"Harry?" the grip on his hands tightened.

"No," Harry whispered. "It was my Uncle Vernon."

Everything went silent. Sirius' mouth opened and closed; he couldn't say anything over the all-consuming _rage _that was overtaking him.

Then Harry spoke, quietly and into his lap, as though he was too ashamed to look at Sirius. "It happened every few weeks, till I got my Hogwarts letter. After that I think he was too scared I would retaliate and it stopped."

The anger mostly left him as he focused on a new emotion instead. Sirius' eyes welled up in tears as he thought about how scared and confused the small Harry must've been each time this happened, especially the first time. He could imagine Harry shivering in fear before his fat, ugly uncle, and the mere _thought _caused his heart to shrivel up in pain.

"I'll kill him," he finally said in a strained, tear-choked voice. "I'm going to hunt down that bastard and slowly tear his…"

"He's already dead, Sirius," Harry interrupted. "He had a heart attack two years ago. Aunt Petunia keeps his ashes in a vase over the fireplace."

"It was too easy of a way for him to go," Sirius muttered. "I wanna bring him back from the dead just so I can slowly kill him again."

"Stop saying that," Harry pleaded, finally looking up at Sirius. "It's okay, Sirius – really. That was more than ten years ago."

"And you're _still _affected by it!" Sirius exclaimed. "It doesn't _matter _how much time has passed – you haven't forgotten it and you're _far _from over it!"

"Well, what am I supposed to _do _about it?" Harry said, finally losing a grip on his emotions and becoming angry. He tore his hands from Sirius' grasp. "Yeah, shit stuff happened to me, but that's just 'the cards I was dealt with', now wasn't it? I've moved forward already and I've _tried _to forget about it, but it's hard to do when you decide to shove your boner at me every other day!"

"Why are you getting angry with _me_?" Sirius said, annoyed. "It's not like you were actually _forthright _with me in regards to what happened – no, have to keep it a secret the whole time!"

"I wasn't _trying _to keep it a secret!" Harry fumed, crossing his arms. "But what do you _expect _me to say? 'Sorry, Sirius. Can't have sex with you today, 'cause having any male genitalia near me sends me into panic attacks where I remember what my uncle did to me ten years ago. Sorry, tough luck!'"

"I _expect _you to be honest with me!" Sirius cried. "All this time I thought you were going to leave me out to dry at any point, and you were making excuses! If you had given a _hint _as to why you always pushed me away, maybe I could've figured out that you were really just traumatized and I would've stopped hurting you!"

"Oh, poor baby Harry Potter!" Harry mocked. "Still a child who needs his godfather to watch over him at twenty-two years old!"

"With all that's happened, you need someone who _loves _you to help you through this!" Sirius insisted. "Not some _married _tosser from the United bloody States!"

"Well, _excuse _me for not recognizing love when I see it." Harry said coldly. "After being raised without it for years, it's a bit difficult. Maybe if _someone _had done what they were _supposed _to twenty years ago, that could've been changed, and I never would've been in that _situation _to get raped by my own uncle." He gave the shellshocked Sirius a bitter smile as he rose from his chair. "Or better yet, if you hadn't taken the coward's way out and decided to make the switch that got my mum and dad _killed_."

Then, without another word, he strode from the room. A moment later, the front door slammed. Harry had left.

Sirius put his head on the table as his eyes stung with tears. _Oh, God – what have I done? Harry must hate me. This is all my bloody fault._

* * *

Harry felt like a right idiot.

As he walked down the street, he berated himself for losing his temper with Sirius. He had only been trying to help him, after all. Granted, Sirius had never been the most tactful of men to begin with, but he tried. Harry knew that Sirius loved him – had always loved him, in fact, even when he'd thought the man was coming to kill him and even when the love had been more platonic. And he _knew _how horrible Sirius had felt – how horrible he _still _felt – that he hadn't been there to protect Harry, to raise him from the start as he'd promised James and Lily he would. And he had just thrown that one pain right in his face. Not only that, but he'd rubbed salt and vinegar and pure _acid _into that wound by talking about the switch – his _other _greatest regret. Sirius' two greatest pains had been tossed, one after another, right into his face with no regard for his feelings.

_Sirius must hate me._

A tear dripped from Harry's eye as he thought of the man he loved. Sirius _should _hate him – he _knew _he deserved it. He was probably planning on kicking Harry out as soon as he got back home. Or worse – he was taking Harry's words to heart and was beating himself up and probably drowning himself in a bottle of Firewhiskey right now.

He had tried. He had tried _so hard _to keep what happened so many years ago from his lover. He had been afraid, that Sirius would be disgusted with the "used merchandise" and would turn him away.

But it was worse. He had been kind, and understanding, and indignant, and it had been too much for Harry and he'd snapped. Sirius had tried to help him, but the two of them were too much alike and they'd both become angry. But Sirius' focus had always been Harry – his concern for Harry and how he was coping. He had been angry that Harry didn't understand the levity of the situation, and Harry just _had _to take his heart still on the mend after his best friends' deaths – especially after Harry had reminded him of one just days before – and had cut it into tiny pieces.

_Sirius must hate me._

The thought kept running through his head, over and over again as he tried furiously to blink back the tears coming in cascades down his cheeks. He wiped his cheeks repeatedly with the palms of his hands, but it did nothing to stop his heartache.

After Sirius finding out about Vernon, that brought it up to a total of three people in the entire world who knew about it. Vernon was dead, thankfully, and Harry was fairly positive that while his aunt had been jealous of his mum, she wouldn't have stepped back and let her only nephew be raped by her husband. She had probably never known, too focused on the neighbor's gossip to focus on the scandal going on in her own home. And Dudley…well, he'd never been too bright to begin with; he doubted that his cousin had seen or suspected anything about what went on while he went out for lunch with his mum.

Harry had been careful to keep it from his friends, too. He was certain that if Ron had figured it out, he would've told Mrs. Weasley and there would've been a riot on Privet Drive within five minutes. Considering that had never happened and there hadn't ever been a summer where she cried over him for no reason or something, he was positive that Ron didn't know. And Hermione…well, he was never sure about anything where it concerned her. She might suspect something…but then again she might not.

And Dumbledore…well, Harry couldn't imagine Dumbledore allowing something like that to happen, blood wards be damned. Although he was a Legilimens, and _must've _used it on Harry at some point without his knowledge, he must not have come across those particular memories. Same to McGonagall, for that matter. She had always been a fierce protector of her Lions, and there would've been hell to pay at the Dursley's if _she _ever found out.

But there had been one particular professor whom Harry had once been sure was a traitorous spy who hated him with a passion. During Occlumency lessons one day it had all come out in the open, and in his own way, Snape had made sure that it would never happen again, even though it hadn't for four years at that point. But Harry still had the Portkey Snape had given him so many years ago, that would lead him to Snape's own home should another event like before occur. He had kept the woven rope bracelet around his wrist mainly for sentimental reasons – proof that no matter his flaws, Snape still cared for him in his own way – but he was pretty sure it still worked, and he needed advice from someone who already knew what had happened when he was a kid.

Less than ten seconds later, he found his assumption true as he stood in Severus Snape's living room, staring into the onyx eyes of the older man sitting in the chair in front of him.

* * *

_Harry must hate me._

Sirius hated himself. It was only justified that Harry should hate him, too. Hadn't Harry said that, though in not so many words? Everything that Harry had said was true – none of it would've happened if Sirius hadn't screwed up and forced him to stay with the Dursleys. If _Sirius _hadn't screwed up, and gotten James and Lily – Harry's _parents – _killed. If _Sirius _hadn't screwed up, and been unable to raise Harry as he'd sworn to do. Harry was right – if he'd been there, Vernon never would've been able to rape him – Sirius choked – _forty-three times_.

In a way, the number hardly mattered. The fact that it had happened _at all – _that there was a _chance _of it happening at all – was enough to drive a stake through Sirius' heart. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to block out the imagined voice of a young Harry crying out in pain.

_"Daddy…!"_

_"Your daddy's **dead**, boy! And you are **mine**!"_

Sirius clapped his hands to his ears in despair. He didn't even know if that had happened. But it was so real…it _could've _happened. He wouldn't be surprised if it had.

_Harry must hate me._

This was all his fault, he knew that now. It was _his _fault Harry froze every time he felt Sirius' hardness pressing on his thigh. It was _his _fault he got skittish when Sirius startled him while he was getting dressed. It was _his _fault Harry always got a haunted look in his eyes when Sirius closed the bathroom door when they were in it together, why he could never hug Harry from behind for more than a few seconds, why Harry always insisted on wearing his boxer shorts in bed, even when sleep was the only thing promised.

_It's all my bloody fault._

* * *

Severus Snape listened as Harry spoke over a glass of Firewhiskey, not saying a word as Harry explained the whole problem to him. He watched the aggravation, worry, and fear play across his former student's face as he gesticulated rather wildly as he told his tale.

He had been rather surprised when the young man had appeared suddenly in his living room just as he finished Chapter Twelve in his book, but after seeing the flustered and sorrowful look on his face, he had set the book aside and ordered the man to sit while he went to fetch a couple of glasses and a bottle of Firewhiskey. After pouring his guest half a glass and himself a quarter glass, he had told the young man to explain what the problem was. He supposed it was a bit irresponsible to be drinking Firewhiskey in the middle of the day – much less _serving _it to the boy who'd been no less than a thorn in his side for seven years – but damn it all, they were both adults now and he could do what he wanted.

Potter had been hesitant at first, but as he went on with his story and Snape didn't interrupt, the words had come faster and soon he was blurting everything out.

"…and now after I said that I'm pretty sure he hates me and isn't going to want anything to do with me." Harry finished lamely. "And I get it, I do, but I don't want to just let him go."

Severus was quiet for a moment, considering his words as Potter finally took a drink of his Firewhiskey, downing it all in one go. Severus wordlessly poured him another glass, waiting for Potter to raise it to his lips again before he spoke.

"You're an idiot," he finally said bluntly. Potter nodded sadly without a word of protest.

"I know."

"And you're a _blind _idiot," Severus went on. "Worse than that, because even an _idiot _can see how much Black adores you. After what you said he'll be thinking of how despicable _he _is – which I can't say I altogether disagree with."

Harry rolled his eyes but said nothing, knowing that it would make no difference to the man.

"And on top of your apparent blindness," Severus continued, "Your stupidity has exceeded that of your school days, a feat which until now I thought impossible. How can you be '_lovers_'" – he said the word with a curled lip – "if you don't even 'make love'?" He held up a hand when it looked as though Harry would protest. "I understand – you've always been secretive, but if I was in Black's shoes, I would be feeling betrayed right now that I couldn't be trusted with the truth and was constantly pushed away without even knowing why. I would demand to know why my rival since school knew about this when _I _didn't, as I'm supposed to be the one you love and trust most on the entire earth. I would be hurt that you would even _consider _that I would leave you because of words said in a bout of anger, or because you thought I would leave you for being 'dirty' and 'used'. I would be wondering desperately where I went wrong over the last year that you still believe this is a trick, or that I don't _really _love you. I would wonder where it all went wrong between us, and I would be blaming myself to the point of ridiculousness that I thought of revenge before my duties as a godfather."

"But…" Harry seemed to be struggling for words. "But I…"

"But consider this for a moment," Severus continued smoothly, as though Harry hadn't even spoken. "What if Black _had _done what he should've, and taken you in after your parents were killed? What if you had been raised by a _real _father figure"—he said the words with a slight sneer—"ever since you were fifteen months old?

"Now, I would never condone _any_ form of child abuse, and raping is just out of the question. But if you had known your godfather as such – a _godfather_ – would you ever have seen him in a romantic light? If he'd been the one to make sure you ate your vegetables as a child and took your broom away when you talked back to him as you are so wont to do, would you have ever even _thought _about having his tongue down your throat?" The words were brutal and honest, but Severus wasn't finished.

"Granted, you met him when you were almost fourteen, but even then he was in hiding for years and you never saw him much, did you? He was just there, more or less in the back of your mind most of the time. And if you hadn't been raised by those idiot Muggles, you wouldn't be the man you are today, the man that, for all your faults, Black can still somehow love."

Harry was speechless. He didn't even try and form a coherent sentence from all of the jumbled thoughts floating around in his head. Because everything Snape was saying…was true. It was so true it hurt. If he had been raised by Sirius, they probably wouldn't have the same type of love the two of them did now. Who knows? He could even be going out with a low-life junkie that would lead him down the path that leads to imminent death. A bit dramatic, but it was a possibility.

_Sirius must hate me. Why don't I ever think before I say something? This is all my fault. I don't deserve him._

"I don't deserve him," he whispered, not realizing until Snape spoke that he'd said it out loud.

"Potter," Severus said with a slight roll of his eyes. "For all of his faults, the mutt would never intentionally hurt you, physically _or _emotionally." The words seemed to pain him a great deal. "And I doubt _very _much that he's going to hold anything you said against you. He _does _love you, even if you're too much of a blithering, blind, blustering _fool_ to see it."

* * *

Harry let himself quietly into the house many hours later, hoping that Sirius was asleep already. It was only eight o' clock at night, but he could hope.

No such luck. Sirius was sitting in the parlor with a glass of what looked to be Firewhiskey sitting on the coffee table, and – yep – the bottle of the stuff sitting next to it. Harry couldn't see from the doorway how much he'd drunk, especially as Sirius was sitting with his head in his hands and he couldn't see his face.

Harry's heart gave a pang as he looked on the man he loved, looking so broken and dejected. He stepped further into the room, stepping softly over to the couch.

"Sirius?" Harry said quietly.

Sirius' head snapped up at Harry's voice, but he didn't say anything. He reminded Harry of a kicked puppy, but it was so much worse. In his eyes he could see overwhelming sorrow, regret, and self-hatred. Harry hated himself even more at that look in his eyes. He sat down next to Sirius on the couch.

"I'm…I'm _really _sorry, about what I said," Harry blurted. "I didn't mean it – not _any _of it – and…and please don't think on it too much, because it's not true. I love you – I love you _so _much and I don't blame you for anything and if you want nothing to do with me I totally understand because it was just despicable of me to say that especially when you were only trying to help me which I never thank you for because you've _always _tried to help me even when I was too stupid to see it and I want to keep continuing with this if that's alright with you but of course you're not obligated to do anything but I've always been thinking only of me in this and if you want to have sex, okay, because I _don't want _you to leave me—!"

Harry's tirade was cut off by Sirius' lips pressing down on his own, tasting of alcohol. Harry gave a soft whimper and wound his fingers into Sirius' hair, but Sirius was already pulling back. Harry tried to press forward again, but Sirius moved back further and put his hands on Harry's chest.

"Harry," he said softly. "Stop. We don't need to tonight."

"But…" Harry looked nervous and worried. "But don't you want me still?"

"Oh, Harry," Sirius said, and pulled Harry into his arms, hugging him tightly. He pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "Of course I still want you, love, but I don't want our relationship to be based on pain. We're both equals here, and I don't want to force you into something you're not ready for."

"But I _am_," Harry insisted, turning his face upward and kissing Sirius hard on the mouth. "I _am _ready, Sirius," he said against his mouth, holding Sirius' bottom lip between his teeth. "Please, just…just fuck me, please!" He kissed him hard again, bruising as he bit down and sucked on Sirius' bottom lip.

"No…Harry…" Sirius tried to push him gently away, but Harry was having none of it. He pushed his tongue into Sirius' mouth, trying to get a response from the older man, but Sirius still didn't crack.

"No…Harry, _stop_!" Sirius finally shoved harder against Harry's chest, succeeding in pushing him away. Harry looked back at him through hurt, confused, unfocused eyes, lips beginning to turn reddish-purple as blood flowed back into them. Sirius grasped Harry's forearms and looked at him despairingly.

"I'm _not _going to do this to you, Harry – I _won't_!" Sirius said firmly, trying to get Harry to understand. "I'm _not _going to hurt you like that – not now, not _ever_."

"But I thought you wanted to?" Harry looked extraordinarily confused and desolate. "You said you wanted me…"

Sirius' eyes softened. "Harry, I _do _want you. But not like this. I will _never _'fuck' you."

Tears welled in Harry's eyes at the rejection, and he tried to pull away from Sirius, but the older man was having none of it. He wasn't finished saying what he needed to say.

"That's where most of the problem lies," he continued. "You don't know the difference between making love and fucking."

Now Harry looked confused, though he had stopped trying to pull away.

"I promise you, Harry," Sirius said firmly, "After you've healed from what happened when you were a child, if you still want me, we _will _make love. I will _never_ fuck you, though, because fucking someone is cold and impersonal and painful and that's _not _what we have. I will always put your well-being first, Harry, and don't you _ever _forget it."

"You mean…" Harry seemed to be struggling for words. "It's not…it doesn't have to hurt?"

Sirius' heart gave a pang at the innocent, slightly fearful question. That must've been a lot of the reason Harry had refused in the past – not only because of the trauma, but he thought that it was very painful.

"It always hurts a little bit, at first," Sirius answered. "But if you're truly _making love_, it's overridden with pleasure before you know it. With the person you love, it can be a very wonderful experience, and I'm sorry you were forced when you were younger." His eyes filled with pain. "Harry, I can never express to you properly how sorry I am about what happened. If I had only thought more, been more considerate…"

"No," Harry interrupted. "I told you I didn't mean what I said and I meant it. If I hadn't met you until later, we probably wouldn't even have what we have now, and I would _never _want to give that up."

Sirius swallowed and pressed a kiss to Harry's lips before getting back to the subject of before. "If you want, I can bottom and all you'll know is pleasure. You won't have to worry about any pain when we're making love."

"But what about you?" Harry asked him worriedly. "Won't I have to worry about _your_ pain?"

Sirius smiled softly at the kind-hearted young man. "We can use lube, Harry," he reminded him. "And I can be stretched before we do it. It doesn't hurt as much then."

Harry blinked a couple of times, looking a bit confused, and Sirius continued, "It's all irrelevant now, anyway. You're not ready yet. When you're ready, then we can talk."

* * *

Harry spent the next week watching Sirius. In return, Sirius watched him. Both thought that the other didn't notice, but really they did, just not saying anything about it.

Sirius watched Harry because he was watching his reactions to different things he did and said. He wanted to make sure that nothing would set him off, and it seemed that he was doing okay for the most part. Of course, they didn't snog anymore, only exchanging light kisses and pecks of affection. The relationship relaxed a bit more, and Harry didn't find it necessary to have tongues in each others' mouths anymore. He didn't need reassurance; he already knew that he was loved and wanted by Sirius, and they were only waiting, for Harry to heal emotionally from what had been done to him.

They talked more too, and Sirius was able to get Harry to talk about his feelings about Vernon and the frequent raping when he was a child. Harry was extremely reluctant at first, but as time went on, he found himself blurting out everything on his mind. Sirius would console him, assure him of his love for him, and they would exchange light kisses and go to sleep. And Harry found that it was helping. He felt more relaxed than he could ever remember, and he could snuggle in with Sirius in bed without having to worry about anything sexually traumatizing happening. Sirius was patient, demanding nothing and being only understanding and loving, even when Harry sobbed and got tears and snot all over his shirt. He even stopped having such frequent nightmares. He'd only had one since Sirius had found out about everything, and Sirius had been there, giving him the space he needed but still managing to make his hugs and kisses soothing and reassuring rather than giving Harry any flashbacks.

Harry watched Sirius because he still felt almost like he was a puzzle that he found difficulty solving. He'd thought he understood him, but so much had been lost between their snogs before. It was like a whole other part of Sirius was revealed after Harry began baring his soul, though perhaps Harry just hadn't noticed it before.

Ron and Hermione came over on his birthday to give him well-wishes, and both noticed that he was so much calmer – so much _happier _– than they had ever seen him.

"He's good for you, Harry," Hermione told him warmly as she was leaving. Sirius was gathering birthday cake plates from the living room to put in the kitchen, and didn't hear their conversation.

"Yeah, mate," Ron added. "I've never seen you so happy before."

After they had left, Harry sat pondering their words, sipping at a leftover butterbeer as he sat on the couch in front of the fire. It was true – he felt more happy and more at peace than he'd ever been in his life. And he realized that it was _Sirius _that was healing him. It was because of his love – his understanding – that Harry didn't think about Vernon so much anymore. And he knew that with this continuing, he could heal. He would be okay, and he and Sirius would have a normal relationship. He wasn't sure what he would do when the time to _make love _would come – in that whether he would top or trust Sirius enough to bottom – but he knew that it would all turn out okay. It would be okay, because their love and devotion _made _it okay.

Sirius came up behind the couch, and Harry tipped his head back to smile sleepily and contentedly at him, resting his head on the back of the couch. Sirius bent down, putting his hands on the couch on either side of Harry's head, and pecked him tenderly on the lips.

"Hey," he greeted, pulling back up but still peering at him upside-down above him. "Good birthday?"

Harry smiled, feeling an overwhelming love for the older man. Sirius had no idea of the realization that Harry'd made with the help of his best friends, and Harry looked forward to showing him. But that could wait. Because for now, they were just two men in love, with no other care in the world other than for the other person.

And so, it was with honesty that Harry could answer, "The best."

* * *

**Yep. That's it. This is a rather long oneshot, but I liked it this long. I didn't feel like dividing it into separate chapters and making you guys wait...though I'm toying with the idea of adding a sequel. Your thoughts?**

**As always, please review! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**I marked this as complete, because I planned on posting the next part of it as a sequel, but then it was shorter, so I figured I'd just post it as a Chapter 2/Epilogue...basically, this is when the two of them finally have sex. There's not really too much story itself in it, so if you don't care for the sex part, just skip over it! Hope you guys who are staying love it - please review and let me know!**

* * *

Most people wouldn't consider him a virgin. It made sense - that's why rape was frequently called stealing one's virginity. Once it happened, however violently, one title was stripped away; that of a virgin. And he _had _been raped. Repeatedly. Forty-three times, to be exact - all over the course of about two years, starting when he was nine. Therefore, he really _shouldn't _be considered a virgin.

But Sirius, inexplicably, didn't see it that way. Every time Harry asked why, he got a different answer - "you hadn't hit puberty yet - it wouldn't have been the same as if you had" or "you weren't doing it with someone you loved or were obligated to - it doesn't count."

Harry knew that he wasn't a virgin by any means. Sirius knew it too, but he was just in denial. Harry wasn't sure why it mattered to his lover so much, but it warmed his heart all the same when Sirius got that indignant spark in his eye every time he was reminded of what Vernon had done to him.

But Harry didn't mind so much anymore. What Vernon had done, that is, which was _rape _him. It was nearing Christmas, almost exactly five months since Sirius had found out what had happened when he was a child and had begun helping him through the healing process. And he _had _healed - a _lot_. They still hadn't actually _made love _yet, but it was getting there. Their relationship was much sweeter than it had been before as well - not that they were fighting like cats and dogs before, but rather they did simple things like making one breakfast or waking the other up with a kiss that could be trusted not to go further.

A few days before Christmas Eve, Harry watched from the doorway as Sirius struggled to wrap a present the Muggle way for Mrs. Weasley. Harry had challenged him to wrap _all _of the presents he gave to others the Muggle way rather than the wrapping spell, and Sirius had daringly accepted. Now Sirius was clearly getting frustrated that the paper wouldn't lie flat against the box of the Muggle KitchenAid mixer.

Harry finally took pity on the older man and went over, kneeling next to him and gently guiding his hands that handled the wrapping paper. He could feel the tension easing out of his lover's body, as he tore off a piece of tape and guided Sirius' hand to seal the paper down. Still leaning over the gift, he turned his head and kissed Sirius softly on the mouth.

He had intended for it to be a short, sweet kiss, but feelings he'd never felt before rose within him when Sirius pressed back into the kiss, and he wanted more. He traced his tongue around the edges of Sirius' lips, and in response the man opened his mouth, though he kept his tongue inside to allow Harry to take the lead.

Removing his hands from the gift, Harry reached up and pulled on the base of Sirius' head to bring him closer, deepening the kiss as he pushed his tongue against Sirius', trying to get a response. When Harry's tongue flicked against the roof of Sirius' mouth, near his throat, Sirius groaned and finally allowed his tongue to respond.

Harry delightfully submitted as Sirius pushed his tongue back into Harry's mouth, running over every surface. Harry could feel Sirius' fingers running through his hair, pulling and massaging sensuously. He moaned as the feelings flooded through him, and moved his hands downward to pull on Sirius' waist, crashing their hips together.

Harry felt Sirius' hardness through the sweatpants, and for once, it didn't bother him. He noted that _he _had become hard too, and the grind of erections was sinfully delightful rather than flashback-inducing. He moved so that he was practically sitting on Sirius' lap, winding his legs around his waist to bring them closer.

Sirius let out a something between a moan and a whine, and his hands traveled downward, going under his T-shirt and fingers running feather-light over Harry's ribs. Harry, panting, pulled him closer, so that their bodies were molded to each other, and he ground down on Sirius' hardness. Somehow Sirius' hands had gone to Harry's arse, and he squeezed as with a cry that removed their lips from the other's, he came through his sweatpants. Harry came a second later, shuddering with the strength of his orgasm as he dropped his head onto Sirius' shoulder. His arms dropped to rest tiredly on top of Sirius' as he lost himself in the post-orgasmic bliss surrounding them.

Then suddenly, he felt Sirius stiffen. He lifted his head to look concernedly at Sirius, wondering what was bothering him. Sirius looked at him with sorrow and regret, and Harry felt a twinge of fear as he wondered if now Sirius would leave him. A moment later he pushed the thought away - Sirius had _promised_.

"Harry, I am so sorry," Sirius said, removing his hands from Harry's arse. "I shouldn't have...I mean..."

"You regret it?" Harry asked hollowly, fear of losing him coming back to him in a rush. "You think we shouldn't have...?"

"I'm sorry, Harry," Sirius said with pain-filled eyes. "I'm so sorry that I...I shouldn't have taken advantage like that..."

Harry could feel his eyes welling with tears, and he quickly pushed off of Sirius. "It's fine," he said in a purposely brittle voice. "I'm used to people using me by now."

Sirius gazed at him sorrowfully. "Harry, I didn't mean to - I just...I lost myself in my lust...that's no excuse, though. I shouldn't have hurt you after - "

"Too late for that, Sirius," Harry said, fighting his tears as he rose to his feet. "It's hard _not _to be hurt when the only person you've ever loved is leaving you just when you were starting to get better."

Sirius' eyebrows crinkled in confusion and pain. "You want me to _leave_?" he said forlornly.

"Of _course _I don't want you to leave, you great idiot!" Harry cried. "But I don't have a _choice _here, do I, because just like everyone else, you use me as much as you can and then dump me off when you're done with me!"

"I'm not trying to break up with you or leave you, Harry," Sirius said, causing Harry to pause.

"You're not?" Harry said, hardly daring to hope.

"Of course not!" Sirius cried. "I thought _you _would want nothing to do with _me_, after I just took advantage of you!"

"When did you take advantage of me?" Harry asked, truly lost now.

Sirius gazed at him in disbelief and confusion. "Just now! I kissed you, and then..."

Harry gave him a small, shy smile as he trailed off. "And then I threw myself across your lap, pulled you closer, and lost myself in the wonderful feelings that developed because it was _you _that I came with."

"Ye...! What?" Now Sirius looked confused.

Harry laughed finally, figuring out the misunderstanding. Sirius wasn't leaving him - he was afraid that Harry would have flashbacks of Vernon and be in mental anguish for days, if not weeks. He smiled at Sirius' confused look that he gave him and knelt back down, taking one of Sirius' hands in his own.

"_I _was the one who threw myself at _you_. And...I liked it, Siri," he confessed to him, running his thumb over the knuckles. "I liked it a _lot_."

"You...you did?" Sirius' eyes were hopeful.

Harry nodded a bit shyly and then said suggestively, "I would be okay with doing it again, too..."

Sirius' eyes dilated with lust at the words, and he looked down at Harry's pants, which had a splotch where he'd come. At his stare, a tent began to rise at the front of Harry's pants where he was growing hard again. Sirius' mouth watered, feeling himself hardening, and he looked up at Harry to see him smirking slightly.

"Actually..." Sirius said slowly, giving Harry a suggestive wink, "I want to try something else that you'll love even more."

* * *

Harry had followed Sirius willingly up the stairs, into the bedroom they shared. Sirius had held his hand the whole way, as though he was a child to be led. Harry didn't mind the thought so much. He _was _an adult, but he trusted Sirius more than anyone, and the love and lust radiating from both of them reassured him.

Sirius removed Harry's shirt almost reverently, and then gently pushed Harry onto the bed so that he was lying on his back. Harry, surprising even himself, didn't feel any nervousness when Sirius climbed onto the bed after him, kneeling so that his legs were on either side of Harry's hips and he was crouched over Harry's body.

Placing his mouth on Harry's ear, he nibbled the lobe lightly before whispering, "If it's ever too much, just tell me to stop and I will."

Harry felt himself relaxing under Sirius' touch, however, as Sirius licked and nipped his way across his jaw, down his neck, nuzzling the hollow between his collarbones before he traced it with an almost delicate touch of his tongue.

Harry had no idea that a mouth could turn him on so much - Sirius' hands were still on either side of Harry, bracing himself up so that he was on all fours. Only his mouth ever touched Harry, and Harry could feel his hard erection straining against his pants.

Then Sirius' mouth closed around a pert nipple, and Harry arched into the light suction, something of a whine slipping from his mouth.

Sirius made a pleased noise in his throat, and then moved to the other nipple. Harry moaned, and Sirius' mouth traveled downward, laving down Harry's stomach as Sirius backed himself further down on his hands and knees.

Harry could feel Sirius removing his trousers and boxers, though this hardly processed until thankfully his erection was freed from its confines. He gasped as the cooler air rushed over it, and then panted as Sirius began nipping and licking at his hipbone. His breathing shallowed as Sirius got closer and closer to his pulsing cock, but just before he got there, he changed direction, going around it without actually touching it and moving upward. He threw his head back into the pillow, groaning in need and frustration. He could feel Sirius smiling against his belly, but before he could call him out on it, that wonderfully sensuous tongue flicked out again, swirling around the sensitive skin of Harry's navel and making him dizzy.

He made a keening sound high in his throat, even as he wondered how he could make such a sound. After several long, tortuous seconds of the wet muscle working around and in his navel, Sirius moved downward more, laving through the line of hair that trailed from his belly to his cock. Harry arched his hips upward, but Sirius finally used his hands, to hold Harry's hips and keep them down. Harry breathed noisily, panting heavily as he tried to control his urge to thrust upward, but it was hard. (No pun intended.)

The tongue moved downward, and Harry thought it was going to his cock, but instead it went around it, to his sac. Sirius brought one hand up to squeeze around the base of Harry's cock, and Harry jumped at the contact. At the first gentle suctioning, Harry would have come right there if it hadn't been for Sirius' hand preventing it. He gasped shallowly, legs quivering as he tried to think through the light and stars behind his eyes as Sirius sucked harder, torturing him.

"More..." Harry moaned, hardly aware that the word had slipped from his mouth until Sirius' chuckle reached his ears. He looked down to glare lightheartedly at Sirius, and found Sirius gazing back up at him, moving his red lips from Harry's balls. A trail of saliva dripped from Sirius' mouth to Harry's sac, and Harry found this possibly more erotic than anything he'd done thus far. Sirius' normally light grey eyes were dark with lust, and also a certain amount of mischievousness.

Before Harry could think, before he could even breathe, Sirius flashed him a quick, wicked smile, and bent his head back down, licking a stripe up the entire length of the underside Harry's cock as he released his hold on the member. Harry gasped and his body jerked; then he was coming, white flashed over his eyes and he dizzily felt like he was falling. He distantly realized that Sirius' mouth had engulfed the head of his cock, and he was swallowing the cum as it spurted out. His brain processed a brief confusion at why Sirius would _want _to do such a thing, but his brain was too busy focusing on the chemicals rushing through him to stay on that topic too long.

But Sirius still wasn't stopping. He hadn't pulled back, and his mouth was still around Harry's member. Harry didn't have time to ride out the orgasm, as he could feel himself hardening again under Sirius' suctioning mouth.

"What..." he gasped, "What are you doing? I'm...I'm getting hard again...! Sirius...!"

In moments, he was writhing and bucking into Sirius' warm mouth. Sirius engulfed the cock so far down that his nose was nestled in the dark pubic curls and the tip of Harry's cock was pressed against the back of his throat. Harry whimpered in pleasure, wondering how he could've gone without this for so long.

"Please, Sirius," Harry gasped. "I want you _in _me…right now…!"

Sirius pulled back suddenly, and his eyes were guarded and wary. Harry, gasping, gazed up at him, wondering if he had done something wrong.

"I'm sorry, Harry," Sirius said in a voice still husky with lust, but now with regret. "I didn't mean to take advantage of you…"

"Sirius," Harry breathed noisily through his nose. "I don't know what you're on about, but will you _please _get on with it?!"

"That's what I _mean_, Harry!" Sirius cried, moving away from Harry and sliding off of the bed. "We're not supposed to go so far so soon – I don't want to hurt you."

"In case you hadn't noticed," Harry said exasperatedly, getting a grasp on what Sirius was talking about, "I'm not exactly in any mental anguish over here." At the look on Sirius' face, his expression softened. "Sirius, I love you and I trust you. I _am _ready for this. _Please_…"

"And…you _want _me to top?" Sirius asked, eyes confused. Harry just nodded in answer, glancing at his still hard erection, and the bulge straining in Sirius' pants. His eyes were still lusty with want.

Want for _Sirius_. Harry wanted _Sirius _inside him. This knowledge warmed his heart considerably, and he couldn't help the smile that crossed his face.

He slowly removed his clothes, watching Harry's reaction all the while, but his expression never wavered – he never looked regretful or afraid.

When Sirius removed his trousers, Harry noticed with interest that he wasn't wearing any underwear. Somehow this didn't surprise him.

What _did _surprise him, however, was Sirius' cock. As soon as the pants were off, the erection sprung free, and Harry couldn't help noticing how much _larger _Sirius was than Uncle Vernon. He felt a slight wave of nervousness, remembering how much Vernon had hurt him, but then it was gone. Sirius wouldn't hurt him – he had _promised_. And Harry trusted Sirius. He was ready for this.

Then Sirius climbed onto the bed, kneeling back between his legs.

"If you ever want me to stop, just tell me," Sirius told him. At Harry's wordless nod, Sirius' gaze went down to between Harry's legs. After a quick glance back up at Harry, Sirius bent down and spread Harry's cheeks apart to access the puckered hole. His tongue poked out, and he licked a quick stripe across the length of the hole.

Above him, Harry gasped and his legs jerked, and Sirius looked up at his lover to see him staring at him in awe and lust.

"Okay?" he breathed, and Harry nodded quickly, still watching Sirius.

When Sirius licked the spot again, however, Harry threw his head back into the pillows with a breathy moan. He'd had no idea that he could be so turned on by a _tongue_.

Sirius, satisfied that Harry was happy, put forth all his effort to make his appreciation known to Harry. He loved the taste of him, still young but with the slight muskiness of an older male, and he made said appreciation known as he licked and nibbled along the ridged hole. When the hole grew wide enough, he pushed his tongue inside, tasting the walls of Harry's canal. It made his jaw achy and tired, but the whimpers and begs for more from Harry made it worth it.

When he felt he had stretched him as much as he could with his tongue, he removed the muscle and crawled up the length of Harry's body, pressing his lips to Harry's heated ones. His cock slid in delicious friction against Harry's, and he gasped unintentionally as Harry bucked and whined. Still keeping his lips locked to Harry's, he reached one arm over to the nightstand, opening the top drawer and fumbling to find the jar of lube there, kept for when Harry was ready.

He slicked his fingers with the cool oil, rubbing his fingers together to warm it a bit before reaching down to press one finger against the hole. Harry stilled, but it seemed more anticipatory than fearful, so Sirius pushed his finger inside the heat. He almost cursed at how tight it was, knowing how pleasurable it would be surrounding his cock.

But he forced himself to wait, for Harry. He wanted Harry's first experience with him to be a good one.

Harry breathed heavily as Sirius pushed the digit inside him, wiggling it a bit to open it further before pushing another finger in. The pain was sharp at first, but then the muscles of his hole began to relax to the entirely welcome stranger. He hardly noticed a third finger joining the other two, lost in pleasure as he was. It felt strange, the pressure, but also…good, something he never knew he could enjoy so much to have something foreign invade a hole where things usually went the other way.

Then he felt the fingers bend, crooking and turning around as if searching for something...

Holy-fucking-_hell_.

He hadn't realized that he had closed his eyes until they flew open to stare into Sirius' tender and still somehow mischievous silver eyes. He could hardly think through the rush of white-hot pleasure that had coursed through his body, so much better than when Vernon had stimulated that same gland so many years ago. This time he could focus on the love accompanying the pleasure, making it an emotional _and _physical pleasure. And before he could say a single word - before he could even _breathe _- Sirius brushed his fingers over the bundle of nerves again, and he cried out at the double stimulation.

"Please please please please..." Harry chanted incoherently. "..._More_, Sirius!"

And Sirius obeyed, pressing down on the nerves for a solid three seconds, causing Harry to practically writhe at the pleasure shooting through him. Then fingers were released, and then a quick swipe passed over them, torturing Harry but not allowing him to come.

When the fingers were removed, Harry briefly mourned their loss before realizing that Sirius had just told him to turn over.

Harry shook his head. "No..." he said, trying to push through the lusty fog over his mind. "No, I want to be like this."

Sirius looked a bit wary, and he moved so that he was closer to Harry's face. "It hurts more this way," Sirius told him regretfully.

Harry stubbornly shook his head again and wrapped his arms around Sirius' neck. "I don't care. I want...I want to _see _you."

Sirius didn't answer verbally to that, just bent down to tenderly kiss Harry's lips as he reached for the lube again.

What seemed like years later but what was probably only seconds, Sirius pulled away from Harry's lips, and then there was a slight pressure at his hole. Harry held still in anticipation, and then after a moment of resistance, Sirius' member passed through the first ring of muscles.

Harry's eyes widened and his cock wilted at the burning pain, and he just barely held back a startled cry. Sirius' cock was _definitely _wider than his three piano-player-like fingers from being stretched. He'd almost forgotten that there was going to be pain, caught up in Sirius' loving and tortuous but still overwhelmingly pleasurable ministrations. Sirius stopped moving immediately, having been watching for Harry's reaction, though a vein in his neck stood out from the effort of holding back.

"Okay?" he asked huskily, though in a voice still filled with worry.

"Don't move," Harry said in a strained voice, mostly meaning for Sirius not to pull out - he was sure that if that happened, it would be a while yet before Sirius would come at him like this again. Sirius seemed to be about to say something, but Harry spoke before he could even start. "Okay," he breathed out. "Keep going."

Sirius looked at him a bit doubtfully, but he obeyed, pushing deeper into Harry by another inch.

As Sirius continued to drive himself deeper, Harry found himself relaxing more and more, feeling less pain and more pleasure, just as he remembered Sirius saying would happen five months before. When Sirius was finally buried up to the hilt in Harry's arse, he paused for a moment to let Harry adjust.

But Harry was having none of that. He wiggled his hips a bit and almost whined, "_Move_..."

So Sirius obeyed. He pulled back a couple of inches before thrusting suddenly back in, bumping against Harry's prostate gland.

Harry cried out, but it was in pleasure and surprise rather than pain. "Do that again!" he begged, wrapping his legs around Sirius' waist. Sirius did, causing Harry to gasp again at the pleasure. He tossed his head to the side.

Sirius pulled out farther than before and then pushed more slowly back inside, torturing himself as well as Harry.

"Oh, Merlin, you are so tight..." Sirius moaned, hardly aware that the words had slipped from his mouth. "You feel so good, Harry..._so _good..." He said the last bit in almost a whisper, a reverent prayer, and Harry's heart warmed at the love exuding from the older man. He understood what was meant by "making love" now.

However, the two of them could only stand the slow, deep thrusts for so long. After Harry became a whimpering mass of need and Sirius began to feel like he was going to burst, Sirius began to pick up the pace of his thrusts. Harry grasped Sirius' shoulder blades, dragging his nails down and leaving scratch marks as Sirius pumped harder and faster into him, neither of them saying a word. Sirius grunted with the effort of moving, and the occasional gasp escaped from Harry's lips when Sirius found his prostate gland again.

Finally, Sirius reached between them and began pulling and pumping on Harry's cock in time with his thrusts. Harry's breathing grew quicker as he felt his balls tighten in anticipation.

"S...Sirius...I'm coming..._Sirius!_" Harry cried out at last, coming in between their chests in a long grey-white ribbon.

"Harry," Sirius moaned as he came long and hard inside his lover. Rather than being painful to Harry he was vaguely surprised that it was warm and gave him the feeling of being comfortably full.

Sirius dropped down exhaustedly beside Harry, pulling out at the same time. Harry hardly noticed in his bliss-soaked daze. His eyes felt droopy, and he thought it was a good time to go to sleep.

"Hm?" Harry mumbled, realizing that Sirius had said something.

"I said, did you like that?" Sirius asked tenderly, and reached over to push a sweat-soaked lock of hair away from Harry's eye.

"Mm," Harry said in response, scooting closer to Sirius so that he was curled up against his chest. Sirius wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "We'll have to do it again sometime..."

Sirius' chuckle reached his ears as he felt himself drifting off, and Sirius laced their fingers together.

"I love you _so _much, Harry," Sirius whispered against his hair. "Sleep well."

A smile reached Harry's lips, small and content, but he didn't say anything - only squeezed lightly on Sirius' hand.

* * *

**And that's it! Now they're all cool - please no flames about how it only took a few months for Harry to get over it, because my justification is this: it's been several years since then, and Sirius is so ****_Sirius _****that his love lets Harry heal better than any shrink can. Hope I didn't offend anyone who might've gone through something similar or anything, but this was how ****_I _****saw Harry healing through Sirius. :)**


End file.
